Helen Parkins: The Daughter of Time
by lonelyguyfarhan1
Summary: Helen Parkins is an orphaned muggle born from Spinners End. We discover the magical world through her eyes, as we learn how life is for some who isn't the chosen one. What will drive her to go on when she questions the reason for her very existence and will she be tempted to escape a world that wishes she never existed in the first place.
1. Prologue: Catalysts of remembrance

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Just a fan with too much free time.

Prologue: Catalysts of Reminiscence

"I… I'm sorry", said Snape. Barely above a whisper.

"Save your breath!", was his once best friend's scathing reply. She'd been crying, Snape realized, noticing the tears drying on her flushed cheeks. She bit her bottom lip just as she always did, when trying to hold back the tears. She was trying to be strong. He would not make her feel for him again.

"The only reason I'm entertaining this is because Mary said you'd threaten to sleep here. It's over Severus, ", gone was her term of endearment, "go back to your Death Eater friends! See? You don't even deny it!", she ground out.

"I'm sorry", said Snape, much more audible.

"Don't bother Snape, you've chosen your path, I've chosen mine. Goodbye", she said as evenly as she could before turning to head back into the portrait.

"I'm sorry", Snape said, desperation creeping into his voice. But she never turned back as the portrait closed behind her.

Severus woke up with a startle. It's the forth time since the summer holidays began that he had that dream. He was in Spinners End. The house where he grew up.

He mused that being in such proximity to where he'd first met her was the likely reason. His subconscious reminding himself of the last time he spoke to her, because he was near the place where they first spoke. Irony.

Lounging around his childhood home, reminiscing and reliving old hopes, dreams and nightmares was hardly his preferred idea to spend the holidays. Normally he would invest his time in doing freelance work for Saint Mungo's. Namely their department of research and development for Portions and Magical Recovery. But Dumbledore insisted, "You need rest Severus. Starting this year, I will be needing you to fulfill your promise on protecting the Boy. For that I need you at your best and refreshed. A few months away from work will be ideal."

Severus gave a bemused chuckle. 'The old man must assume I enjoy this,' he thought. But that isn't the case, is it? In fact, work was is escape. Escape from the realization of the futility of his own life.

He rubbed off a light layer of sweat from his forehead and neck. It was a relatively warm summer. Knowing how difficult sleep was for him, he didn't even try going back. After accio' ing his wand he cast a quick tempus to ascertained the time. 3:00 am in lazy grey letters shone in front of him. Sighing, he slid out of bed.

Perhaps a walk? Since he'd been condemned to reminisce this summer, he'd at least deserve to do so away from the plastic customs of society.

He'd always been a minimalist at heart. Doesn't mean that he particularly minded the relatively lavish furnishings of his quarters at Hogwarts, but also didn't mean he'd be bothered about refurnishing this place. Summoning a bottle of firewhisky from the cellar, where they'd been stored with a refridgement charm, he head out.

A cold hard drink always helped soothed his nerves whenever he couldn't sleep. Especially now. It was colder outside. Savouring the burning sensation of the alcohol in his throat against the sudden cool breeze down the footpath sharpened his senses.

Grimacing, he pulled the sleeve up of his long sleeved dark sleep shirt. And there it was. The barest of visible outlines. It would have totally hidden in the soft moonlight if he hadn't known. If he hadn't had felt the burning sensation first hand during the war. The sensation was subtle, a soft tingling on the edge of a match flame. But it might as well have been a burning inferno for what it entailed.

He was tempted to tell Dumbledore when the first signs of the mark appeared towards the end of May. But the old man had known, hadn't he? He'd known since day one. Heck, he even probably knows more than Severus would ever.

Severus took another long swig of the firewhisky and realized that his legs, as it now autopilot, taken him to the play park where he had first seen. He glanced over at where the bush he would having been hiding in had been. The park had had several redesigns and renovations. Luckily for him the set of swings where they had spent many a late afternoon after supper watching the sunset, both before Hogwarts and during their summer holidays just enjoying being within each others proximity, had been left intact and unscathed.

The worn old rope of the swing groaned at the weight of a grown man. Severus was hardly heavy when compared to the average British male, but these were not made to support someone like him. He flicked his wand to reinforce the ropes before taking another swig. Severus felt silly all of a sudden, being a grown man, but that was fleeting as it was replaced by a sharp sting of grief as he glanced at the empty seat beside him. How many a late afternoon had he sat here alongside her, watching the sun set. Sometimes his hand in hers. Lily had always been a very emotive person, oftentimes expressing the affection she had for others. Even as a child, he remembered fondly, the wet kisses she used to plant on his cheek when she hadn't seen him for a particularly long time.

Ironically, as we has remembering their experience of watching the sun set together, he noticed the the sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon of the lake signaling dawn.

Something at the corner of his eye caught his attention. Was that, an owl? And is it carrying mail? In Spinners End? He clearly hadn't had enough to drink to impair his cognitive abilities, he had a surprisingly high tolerance to alcohol for someone of his weight and build. But a magical household living in such a historically muggle and rotten neighborhood seemed rather odd.

He internally cussed at himself. Of course there could be wizarding folk here. Was there any set rule against it? It was around that time that new students to Hogwarts got their first acceptance letters. And besides, it was headed towards to relatively more posh part of the neighborhood anyway, toward…. Wait? The Evans' old place. Could it? He felt a pang of guilt at not remembering whatever happened to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, the only 2 adults to have ever shown his kindness as a child, but could they still be there?

His curiosity got the better of him, egging him on to see for himself. He felt rather silly himself, but an odd nagging feeling at the back of his head forced him to leave his seat at the swing and find out……


	2. Helen Parkins

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Just a fan with too much free time.

Chapter 1: Helen Parkins

24 hours previously

Helen couldn't remember a summer a this bizarre. During the day it was scorching and humid. In the evening, it was still as humid as if it was the tropics, but there was this weird breeze that chilled you to your bones.

And since the hall of 511 Spinner's Hedge, Spinner's End's only orphanage, where everybody slept, had nothing that could pass as ventilation, she was stuck with the humidity. She had already soaked her cot in her own perspiration and the collective body heat and smell of urine, that was synonymous with the hall itself, made it impossible to go back to sleep once woken up.

She usually slept like the dead till it was customary for all the kids at the orphanage to get up at a hour past dawn, but that was normally when she had something to eat the night before. She winched as a growl from her empty stomach reminded her of her folly the night before.

Helen was usually quite vigilant. Being an orphan in Spinner's End, you had to be. But she careless enough to not look after her bowl of porridge while helping her friend Melonda with her math homework, allowing Hector, the local bully, to slip a dead rodent into her dinner. She threw up for almost an hour after she found out.

She didn't really hate Hector. She understood that this was his own twisted way of coping with the loss of his mother to a house fire late last year. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't punch him in the face first thing after breakfast. Extra chores be damned!

Helen felt rather blessed. Yes the porridge for breakfast was bland and stale, but if you were anywhere near as hungry as her, you could practically inhale anything. And to top it off, she could now give Hector the whack he deserved.

She found him sweeping the front steps of the backyard to 511 Spinners Hedge. The orphanage couldn't afford any staff to maintain the upkeep, so most of the workload was devided amongst the children as chores.

Hector was a heavier boy, compared to most of the other kids. His mother had been a nurse in the local school's infirmary and being a single mother with an only child, doted on him to no end. She remembered that his mother once told her, when she fell sick in school, that he got his thick dark curls and ocean blue eyes from his father who apparently had died of polio before Hector was born.

He gave her a sheepish smile when he saw her approaching and gave a grimace when he noticed the scowl on her face. He'd been expecting this. "Fine, get it over with," he said after a sigh.

Helen rolled her sleeve up to do the business when she was startled by the screech of a cat.

A black cat jumped between them and furiously wagged it's tail to draw her attention when she heard a voice call out to her from behind.

"Helen, we have people who want to see you," said a woman with greying dark hair. Behind her stood a heavy stead man with another lanky man next too him.

You never get adopted in Spinners End. Much less so when your age reaches double digits. Something about you being too old to properly bond with your new parents. But here she was, sitting with her Gran Gran in her office talking with a middle aged gay couple about her possible adoption.

Serana Bingsly wasn't her actual grandmother, but the caretaker and guardian of all the kids in the orphanage. She was hardly a senior citizen, being in her mid to late forties, but her general sense of dour and dying grey attire made to attempt to dissuade the kids at the orphanage to associate her to a grandmother figure.

Being the only relevant maternal figure in Helen's life, it was her who read her those bedtime stories on those long nights she had a fever and couldn't sleep. It was also her who had taught her, her ABCs and was there to see her take her first steps. Unsurprisingly, she had never been so attached to another human being.

The two gentlemen seemed like honest white collar men. Barty and Willem Barry were accountants who had recently moved to Manchester. Barty, Helen thought at first, seemed like one of those Japanese athletes she saw on the telly that wrestled in their diapers. His frizzy short brown hair was almost out of view from the angle where ahe sat, disguised by a forehead that was almost half his head. His thick neck was more suited too a buffalo then a man. Willem on the other hand seemed that he'd be knocked over in the slightest of breezes. His angular face and pointed nose accentuated his small frame.

It was his eyes that caught her attention the most. They had a piercing quality to them, as if they were always on the lookout for opportunity and she was the prey.

It was an odd sensation leaving Spinners' Hedge. Given she'd only had a couple of hours to digest the news, the fact still felt surreal.

What felt odder was cleaning out her things. She didn't really have many belongings, nobody did at the Hedge maybe bar Gran Gran, but that didn't mean, the sight of her box empty and it's contents in a knapsack was all too familiar.

All the kids at the Hedge had boxes. She got hers from the landfill, just north of the river that bisected Spinners End in two. It was a card board box that had initially held a telly in it before it was thrown out. It was soaked when she first got it, so she had to leave it out in the sun to dry in for a couple of days.

She had initially thought of bring her box along with her to her new home but thought otherwise when Gran Gran gave her a glare she only pulled out for when she majorly mucked up.

After stuffing her knapsack with what little clothes she had, Helen took her worn handkerchief, where she had snuck away some of the cracklings from breakfast, and headed out a nearby alley. Once there she yelled out, "FEEBUUS!" and the same cat from earlier on in the morning came running to her from a pile of trash.

This was a daily routine of hers. She would same up some of her breakfast and and give it to Febus. She had first seen the cat, when she was merely a toddler. It had gone a long way to help her fill in the loneliness of not having anyone her age to befriend.

Helen scratched it behind it's ears while it began on it's little treat. The cat hummed its approval as it ate. "I'll miss you little guy," she said morosely. And not just him either. She'd miss a lot of this. She'd been here as far as she could remember. Having asked Gran Gran she knew that her biological mother was an acquaintance of hers and dropped her off at the Hedge when she was still a baby with a nothing but a blanket and a note, imploring Gran Gran to look after her. And that was that. She didn't even know whether her mother was alive or dead.

She'd like to know of course, who wouldn't. It hurt her to remember every now and then that her mother could just leave her like that. But it was different from what Hector and many of the other kids who lost their parents felt. It wasn't like a claw that would gash and gnaw at her, but more like a soft scratch. It would still cut and draw blood yes, but not mutilate her. Then again, Hector and the others wouldn't always bleed. They'd let the wounds scab over and heal with time, unlike hers where she'd continue bleeding. Where the others bled from loss, she bled from never having something in the first place. She bled from the fact that the very woman who gave her life, didn't even want her.

The rest of the day went by slowly. She played in the play park with the other kids in the late afternoon. Had dinner in the kitchen with everyone else, after which everyone sang her their goodbye song. She felt lucky that Hector didn't slip any vermin into her food this time; taking advantage of her not being there to break his face tomorrow. After dinner, Gran Gran sent everyone to bed early. It was a school night.

As she lay in her cot in the hall that night, surrounded by the sleeping forms of the other kids, and the perpetual loud snoring of Hector, god she should have given him that punch in the face this morning, her mind started to wander.

Earlier in the day, her new adoptive parents had promised to send her to a posh boarding school in London. Would she be able to see everyone here again if that were to happen? Pfft, she shouldn't be silly, this school was sure to have summer breaks right? She'd come back then and meet everyone. But…. What if the Defoe's moved? They said that they'd able to get her a seat at this school as most of their highclass clientele was in London. Then wouldn't it make much more sence for them to move back? Then what about Gran Gran?

Visibly worried she sat up and started looking around. Gran Gran's bed was empty, could she still be in her office?Helen crept out of bed, making sure not to wake anyone and went towards her office.

She found sitting in her office studying some papers. There wasn't any electric connection at the Hedge, much like the entirety of Spinner's End, so she was working under candlelight.

The sound of the rusty door hinge's turning broke Serana's attention away from her work. A warm smile spread across her face when her eyes fell on the person that stepped into her office.

"I really need to get those oiled, don't?", surmised Serena.

"Don't fret over it Gran Gran, it'd just be an extra cost at this point," said Helen dismissively before meeting her eyes. "I hope I'm not bothering you Gran Gran."

"Nonsense," dismissed the older woman, "I was just going through your adoption papers is all." She patted the chair next to hers to indicate for to sit on. "What's wrong dear, couldn't sleep?"

"I was worried Gran Gran," she said as she settled on the bareg wooden chair next the matron, "Will I still be able to see you after tomorrow?"

Her initial reply was a soft chuckle. "Why wouldn't you dear? You'd only be moving across the river, not to another country."

"But what if they move Gran Gran?" Fretted Helen, "What if they move back to London? And they're sending me to a boarding school Gran Gran. I wouldn't be able to see you everyday even if I wanted to. How am I supposed to know the other children aren't driving you crazy?" desperation seeping into her voice.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. You shouldn't be worrying about that anymore little one," she said as she traced a finger alond her cheek. God she was going to miss this girl, but while feeling her hollow, malnourished cheeks, a pang of guilt arose within her. She had failed to adequately provide for her. She knew that she was the closest thing to a mother this girl had ever had, and she'd tried the best she could every step of the way to love her like she was her own. But she could never be a real mother to her could she? Not with the responsibility she had to all the other orphans. She was better of now. Finally having of family and parents she could call her own, despite being adopted. They would love her and give her the life someone as amazing as her deserved, away from the rotting mess that was Spinner's End.

But it would still hurt. It would hurt to her very core. She could still vividly remember the day she had first seen her. She was soo small. An acquaintance of hers, whom she had known from her highschool days had dropped her off on the first days of the Hedge. She was just getting out of rehab and had no means to support a child, let alone herself. Even though Helen wasn't technically an orphan, she helped out her friend anyway.

Because she needed her. Oh, how she needed her!

Before becoming responsible for the children of Spinners Hedge, she was supposed to have a child of her own. She still remembers seeing it's delicate little hands and feet on the CT scans. It was to be a girl, the doctors told her. She should have been….

Her lover at the time had kicked her after finding out that the child was not his. The monster had kicked her baby!

He had killed her!

She could never have another child after that. Not only because her organs were irreparably damaged, but even if they weren't she couldn't bear to. She couldn't to have someone else growing inside of her, she her little angel with her little hands and feet had once been. She also couldn't bear the fear of losing a child all over again.

But she had still needed Helen back then. She still desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be a mother. So she needed her. She had used her; without fear….. Because you can't fear losing someone else's child right? So she had needed her and used her to quench her own desires of being a mother….

And now Helen needed her. She needs her to not be selfish and let her have the life she could never give.

Helen noticed that tears were starting to trickle down her Gran Gran's cheeks. Seeing so, she couldn't hold in her own.

Serana felt the sudden clasp of little arms around her neck, and the sensation of tears soaking the shoulder of her sound. The slow hiccuping cries brought her out of her musings. Morosely, she planted a kiss on the crown of her little assailants head. She was going to miss her yes. But she was going to do right by her, the least she could for someone that made her something she never thought possible. For letting her experience what it meant to be a mother.

**AN: Salutations readers. It is I, the person that writes this.****Despite what the disclaimer says, I have come to the realization that my free time is next to non-existent. Guess its expected with finals week coming up and doing 2 other full-time things alongside your bachelors.****Despite this I'll try to keep a fortnightly update schedule. Hope that you enjoyed the story. Haven't ever really written a multi chaptered one before, so I hope I pace the character development appropriately.****And also, would anyone be willing to be a beta reader for this story? Only if it would not be a burden of any sort that is.****I've personally always enjoyed authour's notes. Hopefully I wasn't too mundane. Goodbye and I'll hopefully see you in a couple of weeks.**


	3. The Screeching Cat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Just a fan who used to have free time****A/N: My apologies for the delay guys. Finals week in uni was absolutely a draining leech. Hope you enjoy the chapter**

Chapter 2: The Screeching Cat

Willem felt incredibly relieved. His boss had outright demanded that he and Barty deliver the quarter's product within the end of the week. After their last supplier from East London had unfortunately been waylaid authorities, following a snitch in their operations, remaining in London or anywhere in it's vicinity was far too grave of a risk.

Guaranteeing a new steady supply of "product" was difficult on it's on end, but arranging for their own identities to be re-done on such short notice was particularly stressful.

The names, Willem and Barty had been his personal choice, with Sam and Joseph being a bit too common for his liking last time around. He had had his name changed on so many occasions, that these days he hardly remembered the one he was born with. He was far more accustomed to being addressed as A1 on the memos and encrypted phone calls. 1st operations official in England, with Barty being the 2nd, for "The Organization".

Spinners End seemed like a low profile enough locale to set up a new residence in for the time being, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought of acquiring such a low risk source of supply.

Spinner Hedge was essentially a fortune! And the relatively nonexistent levels of paperwork meant that their operations would be virtually untraceable.

The run down house they had acquired north of the river was in a neighborhood that would have been considered posh about a decade or so ago. Back when the locale still had enough people living in it. The closure of the mill had cost most of the commerce of the area, and even most of the houses in the posh part of town lay empty.

Their house had been empty the longest prier to them inhabiting it. It had belonged to a middle aged couple with two daughters. The father had died of a stroke upon hearing the murder of his youngest daughter and the mother had gone into a vegetative state during the funeral.

As they had moved in just this week, they had not entirely settled down. Carton boxes still lay unopened at the odd corner of rooms. They would have to tidy up somewhat, to offer some semblance of realism to their plan. Namely the assigned children's room, overlooking the front yard.

The walk from the play park to the Evans' old house had taken Severus longer than he had expected. It didn't help that he got side tracked and lingered around familiar places where he would spend time with her. Like the ice cream shop where she'd get a raspberry peppermint ice cream and buy him a plain vanilla, he'd always preferred simplicity in anything he enjoyed, after church on Sundays. Or the cinema where they had watched that god awful science fiction film, Star Wars was it? And the Manchester City ticket booth, where they'd bought tickets for the Manchester Derby for a FA Cup 6th round tie.

The ticket booth had been turned into a car repair shop after the downturn in the financial fortune for the locale. He couldn't say that he was still particularly that fond of football, but recalling the excitement he had faced when first acquiring the ticket brought forth a slinght pang of remorse over the ticket shops closure.

It had been an emotional goodbye for Helen. Much more so than the previous night. When the 1970 Ford Torino Cabra had pulled into the driveway, the prospect of actually leaving for good had became all too real.

The previous night, the thought did frighten her, but it seemed to be further away. The dread was distant, out of her scope of comprehension. The feeling was akin to a prisoner on death row. The actuality of death not fully sunk in. But when the doors to the automobile opened and she was greeted with a good morning, she could have sworn it was no different to the deceptively cool and soothing sensation of the executioners ax, before it came down for it's final swing.

The Defoe's were extremely early for her liking. It had not even been an hour still sunrise, so most of the other children had been asleep.

This was particularly, jarring for Helen, as she hadn't been able to say goodbye. Even when it came the goodbye with Gran Gran, she was disturbingly rushed by her new parents. They had to hurry to enroll into her new school, was their excuse, but Helen didn't give a damn! This was her final moments with her Gran Gran and she was going have a proper goodbye dammit! Education can go stick it for all it meant at the time. She also wasn't sure if she should be entertaining the thoughts of strangling people who are effectively her legal parents, but she was too angry in most of her ride to her new home to properly contemplate on it.

The sedan, moved onto a relatively posher looking street and pulled onto the driveway of a somewhat posh house, although it was evident that it's previous owners had fallen on hard times, given it's obvious state of disrepair.

As she got out of the vehicle, her eyes drifted over to a small clearing across the street that was being used as small playground for the children in the street, which she could tell from the swings and seesaw implanted on it. Although her eyes became aware of something else..

A man, she thought. His appearance was so jarringly different from his surroundings, that it was impossible for her to not notice. His hooked nose, shallow cheeks and disturbingly gaunt frame gave him an almost serpentine feature which sent a chill of unease through her spine.

"Don't worry dear, you'll be able to play there in evening. Lets get you settled in first," said one of her father's. The lankier one Willem. A look of sheer confusion spread on Helen's features. "Couldn't he see that man? He was staring right at him while he spoke!" was her thought.

Willem interpreted her confusion as spoilt defiance and said, "Now there young lady, you may have been allowed to do whatever you want in your orphanage, but you would have to adhere to a proper routine whilst living with us. With that, he ushered her in.

Helen managed to look back at the man before being guided into the house. He hadn't moved a muscle except that there was now a clear look of astonishment it his obsidian eyes.

Severus watched with vague intrigue as the car pulled into the driveway. They must be its new residents, he thought. He was occluding to stop the wave of bittersweet memories rushing back to him, ones he'd been cursed to relive this summer. The Evans' house had been exactly the same as he had last remembered it, the summer before his sixth year. The summer after he had said the most regrettable word of his life. The tree overlooking Lily's old bedroom, which he had occasionally climbed up of to visit her when she was grounded, was still present.

It wasn't until a little girl jumped out of the vehicle that his emotions flared up again. From her slumped shoulders and scrunched eyebrows he could determine that she was obviously in a rather sour mood. But the moment her eyes turned to him that his occlumency walls completely fell away.

He could initially see an expression of confusion which then turned to one of fear. He was using a disillusionment charm that only worked on muggles to not arouse suspension from his lingering around in the neighborhood.

He had first devised it in his seventh year, adding an extra syllable to an already popularly used charm, thus improving it and making it his go to charm when residing in the muggle world. He enjoyed the anonymity and the lack of peering glances that it brought him.

But here, in an unmistakably muggle neighborhood, there stood a girl that was able to see him? However that wasn't the main aspect of this encounter that had absolutely bewildered him. It was her eyes. His is dazed, post occlumency state he felt a strange sense of nostalgia about them. As if those same set of eyes had been irrevocably intertwined with his very life. That very fleeting look doused in confusion, followed by irrevocable fear had been so profoundly familiar. Hadn't girl so much like her, given him the exact same look when he had emerged from the bushes after she had flown of that swing. Those emerald green eyes were now glued to him, just as they had been all those years ago and just like the first time around, the look of fear slowly evolved into one of soul crushing disgust. The first time around, the owner of those eyes had been turned away and rushed back home, likely this very structure, by her sister while this time around it was her father, or so he had assumed.

Unable to withstand the onslaught of emotions that particular memory had brought, Snape meandered to a secluded alley before apparating back to Spinners End, where he could occlude away from the catalysts of his remembrance.

Away. Away. Away. They had taken Madam Helen away from him!

Those murderers!

Old Miss Bingsly probably couldn't tell, going be her disturbingly amicable demeanor around them, but she couldn't smell the lingering smell of blood on their hands like Feebus could, could she.

The old hag had given precious Madam Helen to away to those butchers! He could still smell the torn scabs of skin underneath their nails and the familiar perfume Madam Helens classmates wore. But worst of all, he could smell the rot of their soul. The rot that had eaten away at the very core of their humanity and had left behind a carcass whose stench was so strong that Feebus and nearly gagged when we had first felt it upon his nostrils.

No! Oh, no! He wouldn't let them bleed Madam Helen like so many others before her. He'd bleed them dry to rot like their souls first.

Helen was somehow disappointed by her new house. She was expecting something a little less barren. Barty took her belongings to her room upstairs while Willem led her to the kitchen for some breakfast.

Cereal. She had never had it before, but heard some of the other kids at school talk about it a few times. With the budget at the hedge being as tight as it was, the city council didn't want to pay extra to feed orphans expensive processed foods.

Sweet she thought. It was sweet. It felt somewhat stale, but the milk made it bearable. When Willem was looking the other the other way, she managed to take a glance at the container. It's expiry date had run out. Why would anyone feed their daughter expired food?

Willem got off the phone to confirm their drop off point. He scheduled a meeting at the abandoned old mill a mile along the river in a few hours.

He was glad at how things were proceeding. He felt comfortable of his relationship with Miss Bingsly and would be back at the orphanage to secure another product. He had to make sure to not let the buyers know of his source, or he'd be sure what they'd storm the place and clean out all the product. Oh no. This source was far to valuable and wouldn't run dry as long as he maintained control of the channels.

His musings were disturbed by a knocking sound. He made to head of towards the front door but noted that the sound was lighter, as if off glass. His eyes turned toward the window by the kitchen sink and saw, an owl? What?

It was gently pecking on the glass, as if wanting to come in. Wearily, Willem pulled up the window and allowed the bird in. Straight off, it flew towards the girl and sat in front of her bowl of cereal. He noticed that it was carrying an envelope in one of it talons, which it beckoned towards her.

Almost as confused as him, albeit also rather tentatively excited as well, the girl accepted.

He moved behind her to get a better view of who it was addressed to and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw that it read, 'To Helen Evon Parkins, 17th Cheshire, Cokesworth.' With that, his tempers flared.

What the flying fuck?! Nobody knew about this! Absolutely nobody! Not a fucking soul within the organization, except their immediate superior knew about their current location and even he didn't know about their operations. How the feathery flying fuck did this letter have the name and address of this place when the girl hadn't even been here for even a bloody fucking hour. This wad not an elaborate prank. His supervisor didn't play pranks. His supervisor didn't play pranks. Unless he wanted them dead that is. Fuck…

With hands shaking, half with absolutely seething rage and half with bone chilling terror, he pulled out his handgun and leveled it at the bird. The owl looked up at him confused.

BANG!

The bird dropped dead, a bloody hole in between it's eyes. The girl screamed. "You killed it! You killed it!" she screeched, "Why did you do that!?" She had begun pounding on his side now. Unable to withstand his anger he swatted her away.

Barty ran into the room while the girl crashed into a cabinet. He didn't care. It didn't matter anymore.

Seeing the carnage in front of him, from the bloody bird to the crying girl in the corner, Barty lost his shit as well. "What the fucking hell is wrong with you!? Never damage the product! You always tell me that!" said Barty, his obese features turning hot pink.

"We're being compromised," said Willem, white faced. That seemed to have calmed the Barty down somewhat, understanding the meaning. Willem tossed him the envelope. "Someone knows about the girl," said he, "I'm guessing it's the Supervisor. He must have called the orphanage and give another team the source. Probably a team that would give him a larger cut."

"You sure it isn't something else? Like I don't, magic?"

"Now's not the time Barty. Go and get the kerosene from the cellar, I'll place the decoy bodies. We'll make it look like a fire."

"What about the girl?" They both glanced over at the whimpering girl in the corner. Her eyes glaring daggers at them, obviously bloodshot from the tears. Her left cheek starting to swell from his earlier assault. Probably broken.

"Where'd you keep the chloroform Barty?" he said casually, "We'll drop her off at a freelance buyer. Will probably only fetch us half of what she would have, due to my loss of temper, but it'll be enough for us to relocate."

"Third drawer from the sink," was his reply. Comprehension dawned on the girls features at that remark. With a flash she made a dash towards the backdoor exit. But little did she know, that Barty over here was a little freak of nature. That's why they had been put together. Him with his IQ of 167 and Barty being stupendously agile for a man his size. He had her by her shoulders by the time he had doused the napkin with the chloroform.

The girls panicked shrieks hardly registered to him. He had far to much on his mind and even more work to do.

He had made sure to bare his parents house of all it's furniture after he had inherited it from his father. Being a minimalist, he only kept the bed in his old room, never having enough courage to sleep in the same room his mother had died in.

Out of all the furniture he had enjoyed burning his father's couch the most. The couch on which he had passed out drunk many a night, usually after abusing him or his mother.

He now lay occluding on a reclining chair he had transfigured from an empty potions bottle. Lily had been revolted by him. Disgust was both the first and last feeling she had ever felt for him. These thoughts had barely registered the magnitude of emotional upheaval they would have had it not been for his occlumency walls. Now, they were little more than a fleeting sensation on the surface of his mind. Hollow. Yes, that was it. The feeling of hollowness. His truest salvation. The prospect of not existing in the first place.

His musings were disturbed when the fire pit burst up an a flurry of green flames. Amongst then, he saw the familiar bearded features of Albus Dumbledore. The furrowing of his brows brought him on edge. This cannot be good.

"Ah greetings Severus, I hope that this isn't disturbing your vacation but I am in need of your services now," his withered voice boomed across the barren living room.

"No worries headmaster," he waved the notion on disturbance away, "How may I help?"

"An owl had been sent for a new student living in Cokesworth last evening. I believe it to be the Evans' old house. It was come to my knowledge that the owl has met a premature end to it's services for us. I am now worried about the well being of the student. It may be nothing truly grievous, but since you are the closest staff to the scene I was hoping you could examine and see that everything was alright," he finished with a soft smile, "I hope this would not be too much to ask."

"Certainly not professor, I will see to it at once," Severus confirmed.

As the fire extinguished, Severus at once apparated to the secluded alley from which he had disapparated not too long ago.

Of course the girl the girl wasn't a muggle. She had been able to see him. Through his disillusionment charm. He had been so distracted with his musings of Lily that he had completely forgotten why he had gone there in the first place.

Despite the headmaster's attempts to downplay the gravity of the situation, Severus knew that something was wrong. There was a sliver of concern in his voice. Yes, it was rather common for delivery owls to be disposed of when delivering letters to muggle households. Especially so in the case of new students. Most parents cannot take the sudden exposure to their world and act violently. Heck, even his father had ordered his mother to throw the owl that had delivered his Hogwarts acceptance letter into the cooking pot. Although that was namely because they hadn't had any meat to eat for months at that point. But no one had checked in to see if things were alright back then. Was this girl important somehow?

Severus took a sharp intake of breath as the house came into view. It was on fire. Shit!

He quickly cast a charm to rain in the locale. With it being Manchester he hoped a passing shower would not be too out of the ordinary. Even in the summer.

Smoke. Fire. Smoke and fire. But no Madam Helen. Feebus was frantic. What had they done to her?

There were bodies in the burning house. Burnt beyond recognition, but there were not Madam Helen. She was not here. They had taken her someplace else.

He was about to set off in no particular direction when he picked up the oddly familiar scent of someone else. He had known this before. But more importantly, he could have sworn that he knew of the rot of this individuals soul.

It was a different kind of rot this. Unlike the dead carcasses of Madam Helen's capturers, his rot was alive. It was living, breathing and almost attempting to consume his soul whole. To destroy it's own self, to become one with the void and simply not exist.

Feebus felt a shiver and was overcome with a hatred that was not his own. From another life perhaps?

He ran. He charged and he lunged. He sank his teeth into this mans wrists.

Pain. That was first thought that Severus registered when he was set upon by a screeching cat.

Throughout his life he had felt moments that he had an inkling would change his life forever. The moment he had first seen Lily jump of the swing and float towards the ground. The moment when she was sorted into Gryffindor and went on the sit besides Potter. The seconds after he had called her that name, and even the seconds after the Fat Lady's portrait closed that night. Even the night he heard the prophecy to that dreadful night where he had discovered her dead, huddled over, face down on the floor. But he had never expected to next feel like this through a cat? A screeching cat biting into his wrist. What?

Stupify!

The cat landed on the scorched floor with a thud. And all of a sudden the moment was gone. Deciding not to dwell on this peculiar event, he decided to look around. The burnt bodies did not belong to the girl. They had taken somewhere, but where?

His eyes found the the Hogwarts invitation letter, remarkably still intact. Did these have protective charms from fire? What other charms did it have?

A quick diagnosis revealed that the letter also contained a tracking charm, only to activate when in possession of a magical animal. Realization dawned on him.

He lifted the stunner on the cat and kneeled in front of it. "I need you take this envelope to that girl. Do you understand?" He said, as slowly and clearly as he could. Tentatively, the cat clutched the envelope in it's and gave him a lingering look of comprehension before running off.

**A/N: Happy Bengali New Year btw. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Be sure to leave a review if you can. It really helps with motivation.****I have a break for two weeks, so hopefully I'll be able to stick to the fortnightly update routine this time around.****I'll be going and watching the City match now. Sterling just scored. Goodbye.**


	4. The Beauty Of Hope

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Just a fan who used to have free time.

A/N: It seems that I should have properly mapped this story out before starting to post this. But hopefully the next update won't take as long.

**Chapter 3: The Beauty of Hope**

Willem had chosen an old official building on the outskirts of Cokesworth. The apartment they occupied had previously belonged to an independent film studio before they had moved to Manchester. He had thought it would be a perfect place if such a situation ever arose, where they were being compromised and set if up as a position of defence if it ever came to that.

Ideally, he would have been half way across the county by now, but they needed the money from this sale. He had sent an encrypted fax to a local freelance buyer and was expecting him any minute now. The deal had to be swift. They couldn't afford their Superior from discerning their location.

The product lay outstretched, still unconscious from the chloroform, on a nearby work bench. The swelling disturbingly obvious. But it wasn't their problem now. The buyer would fix her up afterwards. Or perhaps he had customers that liked em that way…

000ooo00ooooo00

Severus felt a small gush if relief. He hadn't been wrong in his assumption of the cat being magical after all. No ordinary cat could run like this.

Had he not had a broom shrunk in one if his pockets, he never would have been able to keep up. The Dark Lord had taught him the fundamentals of unassisted flight before, but he wasn't keen on testing his application of those in a situation as urgent as this.

Using a version of the same cloaking magic of that if the midnight buss, so that only magical beings were aware if his presence, Severus sailed through the skies in hot pursuit. The cat arrived at an old and rundown office building, housing several low time law and advertising firms and the odd studio.

This would nor ease his work as he'd now have to be ever more vigilant as to avoid confrontation. Fights in a heavily crowded area never end well. Far too many people had died on his accord, albeit indirectly, he was not keen on adding to that list.

What was he to expect anyway? Were they magical? Death Eaters acting on their own accord? Actual muggles? It was impossible to ascertain. He would have to rely of the effectiveness of his disillusionment charm and hope on the lack of perception on his opponents part. God what he would have done for that invisibility cloak of Potter's right about now.

The cat, led him an apartment on the second floor. He would not be able to apparte into it as he would have wanted, having never been there before. He cast a quick detect life spell and found three living people inside the apartment. Had be been any less experienced, he would not have been able to dissertation the life force of the girl from the other too. Unlike theirs, her life force flickered much more innocently in his mind's eye. The gentle and magenta flames told him that she was probably unconscious, with the two others being a brighter shade of orange.

This was going to be tricky. Going by the uneven flicker of their flames, he could assume that they were tense. Could they possibly be waiting for someone? This was decision time now. Should Severus wait for the person they are waiting for to arrive and gain a safer entry to the apartment but risk potentially having to deal with another individual. Or does he simply knock and hope that his disillusionment charm is good enough…

The latter, he'd stick with the latter. With a swirling motion of his wand he summoned his corporal patronus, it's true form obviously shrouded in mist, and sent it to the aurors. At least if things got out of hand he would have backup, not long from now.

He then disillusioned himself and made to knock on the door. However, he never had the chance. Just he was about to, a figure rounded the corner and came into the lobby outside the apartment.

A better idea formed in his mind at the sight of this intruder. With a non verbal muffliatio, Severus removed his disillusionment. "Hey! Who the fuck are you?! Where did you come from?!" screeched the man, his hands drawing into his overcoat to retrieve what Severus assumed was his handgun.

"Stupify!"

The man dropped like a sack of bricks. Luckily, having survived a war had sharpened his reflexes. Up against ministry trained aurors for the earlier years of the war combined with the existing swift intricate movements of wizarding duels had made him unmatched to a street thug. Looking down on his fallen foe Severus wondered if he had ever had to use that gun, other than to threaten that is. Kneeling down beside him, put Severus plucked an auburn lock from his head. Taking out a poly juice potion from one of the several pockets in his robes, Severus dipped the single strand into his pre-prepared potion. The liquid bubbled to a dull orange before Severus downed it's contents. The familiar tingling sensation filled him as his body morphed into that of the unconscious man by his feet. Tucking the body away in a nearby storeroom, Severus finally knocked on the door.

He heard shuffling of feet that stopped at the door before he heard a raspy voice from the other side probe, "Darren Fletcher?"

"Affirmative," was Severus's response. After a couple of seconds, Severus heard a faint click from behind the door. 'Interesting,' he thought, 'that sounded an awful lot like the loading of a handgun… Fuck!'

Severus threw himself to his right as a volley of bullets tore through the wooden door and embedded into the wall on the far side.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course there had been a code. He should have used legilemence, to get it earlier. His thoughts were disturbed by a stinging pain coming from his left arm and a sensation of warm liquid trickling down his forearm. He'd been shot. Great!

Before he could inspect his wound, the door to the apartment flew open and two men rushed out. The lighter one of the duo demande, "Who the fuck are you and where's Danny?!" while levelling a gun at him. "How the hell the did The Supervisor know to get a double for Danny?!" said the heavier, much heavier of the two. Severus realized, to his dismay that while try to avoid being shot, he had lost grip of his wand, which had rolled to the far corner or the lobby. He'd have to rely of something else to get out of this one.

Maintaining eye contact with the one pointed the gun at him for a second, Severus's lip curled up in a smirk before he said, "Legilemence."

To Severus it appeared as if time had frozen as he nosedived strategic into the lanky man's mind. He could see it, glimpses that is, to the dozens of murders committed at the hands of this individual. Flashes of blood and hollow, glazed over eyes passed his through his mind as if he were scrolling through a file cabinet. But he wasn't here for an interrogation. Reaching out, as if to slightly lift a single file out, Severus concentrated to rip it in two.

The effect was instantaneous, an inhuman screech filled his consciousness as his action caused a chain reaction of memories being obliterated by the thousand. The sheer magnitude of the upheaval broke the mental connection between the two. But it was enough. The lighter man's eyes had glossed over, the tip of his tongue sticking out as a thick dollop of drool ran down from his mouth onto his chin. He fell down with an anti-climactic thud behind his companion, having surely said goodbye to his mind for good. There were some fates worse that death, and this time, Severus had the misfortune of invoking it.

His partner turned around in shock at the thud behind him, apparently stunned as to what had happened to his companion. Using this distraction, Severus rushed or his wand with his good hand on the other side of the lobby. "What the fuck did you do to him!" came the behemoth of a man charging at him.

"Sectumsempra!"

The side of the man's abdomen split open in a nasty gash if blood and gore. The adrenaline of the situation causing Severus to put in far too much into the slash than was necessary. But.. The man didn't stop.

CRUNCH!

The last thing Snape could remember was the familiar pain and sound of his nose breaking, but this time, it felt as if he was hit by a freak train instead of a fist.

ooooo000ooooo

Helen awoke to the sensation of something wet scraping against her cheeks. Next, was the sharp pain of her broken cheekbone. Seeing that she was awake, Feebus snuggled up against her collarbone, mewing contently at having had her madam back at his side.

"Kingsley, she's awake," came a voice not far from her. A stout woman probably in her mid to late forties came into view. Her stern expression would have intimidated even the most dangerous of thug on Spinners End. Her ashen gray eyes bore no semblance of emotion, whilst his sandy blond hair was kept in serviceable bun, albeit rather hastily, Helen thought.

Yet, her presence drew neither the fear nor the desperation those of her supposed adoptive parents had. She felt somehow safe, if that were to make sense, from a woman seemingly much more dangerous from the two men who had actually tried and succeeded in abducting her. Her feelings were validated as seemingly from no where, there was life in those features. Her dry lips curved into the slightest of smiles, forming creases or her wrinkled and worn cheeks. Her supposed, dead eyes bore an emotional that struck far closer to home than it should have. Something eerily familiar, something which she had feared to have lost. A feeling of genuine compassion? Yes, that's what is was. Compassion. A far cry from the disassociating looks of pity from her school nurses, bandaging her up. They felt sorry for her yes, the girl from the Hedge, but she wasn't their responsibility. She wasn't theirs. But here, now, lying semi conscious on a table after being abducted with the intention of being sold into slavery, did she feel as if she mattered again. That the compassion she was lucky to receive wasn't out of an obligation to someone's job, but an actual desire for her well being that she could only ever relate to one person. Gran Gran. Some how, even in the most absurd of horrific situations, Gran Gran had veen there for her, had brought her comfort. By teaching her how it felt to be loved. By teaching her, what it meant to have hope.

ooooo000ooooo

The girl was in bad shape. She was awake, yes, but the swelling on her cheek was turning an uncomfortable colour of deceased purple. And to going by the dazed stare she has giving her, and the unevenness of her breathing along with the sudden hitch gave her cause for concern. And to top it off, that annoying cat has at her neck, she's going to get a bloody infection from those dirty furs.

Trying to pull up her most reassuring smile, which going by her standards wasn't much, she inched closer. When she saw Shacklebolt draw closer from the peripheral from her vision, she gave him the slight hand signal to stop. After her recent experiences, the girl shouldn't be subjected to too many people at once.

"Hello girl, you are conscious," albeit the sentence was meant to be a friendly inquiry, it came out as more of a statement. Being said in her voice however, it sounded more like an accusation. What is wrong with her? Surprisingly enough, the girl seemed unperturbed by this 'accusation' and replied with a slight nod. Taking this as a cue to proceed, Savage continued by saying, " The swelling seems pretty bad," another statement, great. "Do not worry girl, you will be taken to St. Mungos, but first let me do something to lessen the pain in the meanwhile." She reached into a pocket of her Auror robes and pulled out a bottle of healing salve. She pored an ample dollop of the viscous liquid before putting the bottle away and grabbing the cat by the scruff of it's neck with her free hand, and dropping it to the floor. The cat gave her a threatening glare before strolling away. She then applied the salve to her injured cheek, cringing as the girl winched in pain ever so slightly.

"Feel any better?" Yes! There you go, she finally managed a personable question.

Another feeble nod was the reply as the focus in the girl's eyes started to fade with the pain slowly subsiding as she slowly drifted back to sleep.

She gently cradled the girl in her arm and started for the fireplace a floor below, not wanting to put someone in such a fragile state through the strain of apparating. As she exited the apartment, she felt somewhat relieved as she wouldn't have to shield the girl's eyes from the mess of blood and gore, further down the hall. Severus had done a number on these criminals.

They had arrived here by Floo, having established a link through the ministry beforehand. Once in front of the fireplace, she sprinkled floo powder into the fire, causing it to burst into an inferno of green. She was about to step through, show heard a thud, as a small weight jumped onto her right shoulder. The cat great. Inwardly sighing, she finally stepped through the green flames and into a world where the girl could discover the beauty of hope.

A/N: I really should have thought more of this story through. Although i am in no means abandoning this, think i'll take some time to pre-write some chapters and plan out story arks. Also, the i just cant seem to get those line breaks, so i guess ill just stick to** ooooo000ooooo**. Though it'll take me some time to recover from my chikungunya first. Please review. Lots of love and goodbye.


	5. The Letter

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, just my OCs. Still a fan who used to have free time. **

**A/N: It appears it hasn't taken me an entire month to upload this time. This chapter deal with some of the fallout from the previous ones action.**

Chapter 5: The Letter

Helen had awoken in an empty hospital room. She had initially been confused at the lack of Hector's snoring, but then the events of the last 24 hours came rushing back and with it, the fearm

She had felt fear before. Being afraid of being caned by her overtly strict mathematics teacher in school. Being afraid disappointing Gran Gran with her chores. The fear of her classmates in school realizing her socks were torn hand outs the orphanage got for Christmas. But this was different. A type of fear she had felt for her very being, for her life, a fear that perhaps as long as she had something there would be people to take it. And yet, it had come from a place of supposed trust.

Yes, given that she never truly did trust her adoptive parents, were they not supposed to be her protectors. Had Gran Gran, not entrusted them with the responsibility? Were there not laws in place to protect people like her? If she could not trust the semblance stability that family, adoptive or not, is supposed to symbolize what was there to trust? It may have been grief, but those moments in the kitchen of her supposed new home had scarred her. Left an unimpressionable note on her, none more so than her thwarted attempt at escape. It wasn't the fast that she had been cornered by the big behemoth of a man, but the sheer weight of his grip. If his companion could hurt her so with just a swat, what would be done to her now that she was beginning to understand just who these people were.

She was hyper ventilating.

She felt an eerie light green glow on the inside of her left wrist, flashing lightly. As if on cue, a woman wearing unnatural garbs threw the door open, the sound causing her to wince as if been struct.

"What happened? When did you wake up?" the woman inquired, thought said it as more of an accusation.

Still not having calmed down, Helen some how choked out, "I, I don't know!" Her eyes shot right open at the sight of a wooden stick in the woman's hand. What shocked her more, was the sudden glow at its tip. Not clearly understanding what was happening or the intention of the woman in strange coating, she doubled over and screamed.

"What is wrong with you girl, have you never seen magic?" ground out the woman, " Now lie down straight so that I can perform the diagnostic charms necessary!"

Still having no idea as to what on earth what was going on, she tried to jump over the bed's railings became suddenly nauseous and dizy before her feet hit the floor. Before she knew it, she has heaving uncontrollably, vomiting whatever contents, her empty stomach had in it before loosing her consciousness again.

oooo000oooo

"It would be better, had you allowed me to attend to her first. She is a muggleborn first who is to start at Hogwarts this year. Given she was never told of her magical heritage and in light of her recent experiences, it was natural for her to act the way she did."

"A muggleborn?" the woman snorted.

"Yes Sylvia, and I would request would request a more gracious attitude towards her, in her time here. She has been through a lot," said Savage.

Sylvia Blackridge was a the sole heir of the Blackridge family, one of the family lines branching from the legendary Blacks. Not unlike then, they were known to favour the more to pureblood suppremist ideals although not as blant in their support of You Know Who in the first war. She had known Savage from their time in Hogwarts, and was currently the head nurse for childcare in St. Mungo's.

"This is my area of power Savage. You have no right to dictate how I should do my job."

Savage sighed. It was not unlike for Sylvia to be like this. The girl had always been obsessed with whatever she could control. She saw first hand from the injury on her house elves when they came to apparate her home. The pureblood witch thinking it beneath her to ride with muggleborns on the train. Luckily she expects her to be nowhere near as brutal towards children, or Merlin forbid the things she would do to this bitch, because St. Mungo's being under the Ministry of Magic, meant that it wanted to maintain a muggle friendly image. That wouldn't stop the bitch from sneering and being outright rude though.

"Can I at least break it to her, about her magical heritage."

"It better not coincide with my rounds."

Savage smiled, "Same place for lunch?"

Sylvia's features formed into something resembling contentment, "Same place."

Savage put on a satisfied grin as the nurse left, proud of her ability to tolerate the presence of absolute assholes.

oooo000oooo

It was night time, Helen though as she regained her conscience again. The small gap between the curtains showing the dark sky told her so. Her head still hurt, but she noticed the pain on her left eye and cheek were almost gone. However, the realization that she couldn't see out of her left eye made her start to panic again.

"It's bandaged," came a voice seemingly from her left. "You can't see from your left because it's bandaged."

There was an odd familiarity to it. She turned her head as the woman from earlier came into view. "You suffered from an orbital fracture," there was a strange restraint to her voice, as if she was trying to withhold any semblance of emotion from it. "There had been swelling, the healers were able to mend the bones but the swelling will take some time. Also, the impact of the head trauma gave you a concussion so I would advise against sudden movements or the nausea would return." All Helen could do was nod at that, perhaps a bit too swiftly then she would have liked and was reminded of the advice the woman had given just now.

Obviously, from her very posture Helen could tell that this woman could be very intimidating if she needed to be, from her broad shoulders to her strong build. A hard jawline that could withstand a fair blow, brows that seemed to naturally bend into a frown and a withered cheeks. But despite everything, one look at her eyes put her at ease. The pale blue orbs that bore such a natural compassion seemed to betray her otherwise cold features. Despite still being nervous, she asked, "Who are you?"

"Law enforcement," the voice felt far more natural this time, having regained some of it's trademark sternness she vaguely remembered from their first encounter. Helen smiled a little, received that the woman too was started to feel at ease. The woman's eyes seemed to expand ever so slightly at her smile, a brief glance of confusing flashing over them. What had she said again, law enforcement?

"Oh," she thought out loud without thinking about anything in particular, "You were here for them…" was all she could say.

After a moments silence, the woman tried to reassure her, "They are gone, you are safe now." All Helen could manage was the barest if nods to acknowledge that she was still following. "You never have to fear then again, you will never feel hunted again."

Helen's lips curved into a wry smile, "How am I supposed to do that?" This time around, it was the woman who surprised her, reaching into her robes she pulled out an envelope and handed it over. The red wax seal still felt warm to the touch. Helen's eyes widened at realizing who the letter was addressed to. "To Miss Helen Perkins, 511 Spinner's Hedge" it read.

She had never gotten letters. She didn't even know there was anyone alive to send her any. Could it be that it was from an estranged family member that had wanted to contact her and bring her over. Could it be, her heart gaia lurch, her mother? She gave a hurried look to the woman beside her. Her emerald green eyes spilling over with eagerness and anticipation. The woman gave a soft encouraging nod accompanied with a faint nod. Having the confirmation she needed, Helen dove right in, ripping the wax seal from the opening and pulling out the parchment that was responsible for her renewed hope. It read:

"Dear Ms. Perkins,

We are pleased to inform you of being assured a place in Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.

Attached is a list of necessary books and stationary for the new term.

Class starts on September 1st. We will be expecting a reply within the 31st of July.

Sincerely,

Minerna McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts"

Helen looked backed at the woman with a look of indignation, only to be even more confused when she said, "You're a witch Helen"

"What?" was the only answer she could manage at that time.

ooooo000oooooo

Severus was not expecting any visitors. He never did.

The events from the previous day lad given him a shattered nose and a moderate concussion. They had had moderate success in repairing his nose, with the cartilage being far too many pieces for them to perfectly piece back together and the effects of the concussion still being felt with his apparent nausea. As a result, he was stuck in a patients room with an uncomfortably large bandage on the front of his face.

Despite his protests the Healers at St. Mungo's had forced him to stay overnight. He didn't see a reason to remain any longer considering they couldn't help him any further aside from a few potions for his concussion that he could easily prepare himself.

However here he has, having to entertain one of the incompetent aurors that always took so long.

Being a professor of Hogwarts, Severus was given one of the more lavish rooms in St. Mungo's, with it's own fireplace. This was why when the auror haf settled herself down, the flames of the fireplace burst it the familiar green indicating that of a floo connection and formed into the face of Dumbledore.

"Ah Severus, it seems that you have already met auror Savage," said Dumbledore from the fireplace, the twinkling of his eyes evident despite being formed of emerald flames. "It appears there has been some form of mistake regarding the girl from the previous day. As you know, the school of Howgarts is imbued with the magic from it's founders to select the students deemed worthy to attend. Children of magical parentage are sent letters of acceptance by owl whilst the letters to muggleborns are sent with a member of our staff, to explain to the family of our world. Sadly, the obituary that lists the names to attend classified Ms. Perkins as a Half Blood but did not specify that she was adopted by muggles."

Severus gave a snort, with his broken nose sounded more like a gurgle. The sound caused Dumbledore to wince before he continued, " Naturally as you are the closest faculty the responsibility of introducing the girl to the wizarding world," Severua raised an amused eyebrow, " But as you are currently too wounded, Auror Savage has graciously offered to do so for you. I wish there are no objections from your end?"

"None Headmaster," was Severus's affirmative reply.

"Also Severus, I would expect an audience once you have fully recovered. Thank you Auror Savage for this offer. Hogwarts wishes you their gratitude," and with that the green flames blew out before returning to the mild orange hue of before.

Severus looked at the auror inquisitively. Savage answered his gave with a shrug before leaving.

oooo000oooo

Helen was never truly an ambitious person. Never expected anything meaningful to have to happen in hers, to be given an opportunity. Growing up at the Hedge, she had no reason to be. But what she heard after she had opened that letter was far beyond anything she could have ever imagined.

Of course given the last time someone gave her such an opportunity they ended up being a pair of scoundrels, there was something about the woman that dissuaded all her fears. How can someone so compassionate look to harm her right? Last time around, she could detect the businesslike manner they dealt with her. What did they call her, 'The Product'? Yuck. But this was different. She knew it! Being this starved of love all her life, she just knew when people genuinely cared.

Then there came the part about actually trusting and believing what the woman had said. That Helen Perkins was a witch. A being from fairy tales and the lot. The woman had explained times when she might have performed 'accidental magic' as a child, but Helen couldn't recall anything that seemed out of the ordinary or unexplainable from her childhood. Then again, she did have a rather definite affinity towards animals, recalling that time she had somehow made it out alive after falling into the lion's pit when Gran Gran had taken her to the zoo for her seventh birthday.

She had always had an affinity of sorts towards animals, perhaps explaining her relationship with Feebus. But believing something so overwhelming wholeheartedly was another this. Every time the woman would pause in her speaking Helen expected her to break out in a fit of laughter and tell her it was all some sick joke. Yet it never came. After each pause or question from her end, she continued with the same sincerity in her eyes that had brought her so much comfort the day previous. With each passing moment Helen felt herself at last believing and even relishing this new spectacular life that awaited her.

Suddenly, the conversational tone in the woman's voice was gone. Her shoulders narrowed in and the slight smile of hers evolving into an expression far more neutral. What was to come was clearly serious.

"Ms. Perkins, I know that it is all to take in at once," Helen nodded swiftly, although a smile of ample cheek plastered to her face. "If you uh… look at the attachment in the letter it clearly states that you need supplies I doubt an orphan would be able to afford."

This time, the woman swallowed a large gulp before continuing, "I would therefore want to be your adoptive mother… I am not asking you to make a decision now, but in the event you do I will contact Ms. Bingsley and take care of the formalities and paperwork."

Helen looked at her, somewhat confused. She asked, "That's great, but I still don't know your name…"

The neutrality of her expression was gone for a moment. Replaced by a face, had Helen not seen her kinder side, that would have sent her soul to oblivion. With a shaking hand, she patted her forehead and chided herself with a barely audible whisper of "Stupid!" Yet before she could fully register, the face was gone, returning to her usual professional neutrality. She stiffly got up and raised her hand to Helen and said, " Hello Ms. Perkins, I am Gertridge Savage. Savage for short. Pleased to meet you."

"Uhh… Sure.." was all Helen could muster. Savage stepped back brickly and brought out another surprise for her. A cat. Feebus.

"Oh my, yes! Thank you Ms. Savage," said Helen as the cat snuggled up to her neck.

"I had him washed as I didn't want you getting an infection. Try getting some sleep now. I'll see you tomorrow," said Savage as she made to leave the room.

"Goodnight!" Helen called out from behind her. Hearing so, Savage turned as if confused, but her shock dissipated into the growingly familiar smile.

Helen felt elated for once. Despite all that had happened, here she was, in a magical hospital about to start her life as a witch. The presence and familiarity that Feebus brought amongst all the unknown and uncertainty brought a soothing sensation over her healing but bruised body. Curling her hands over her feline friend, she drifted off to sleep.

**A/N: Hopefully next chapter we can have Helen finally reach Hogwarts. Fingers crossed it doesn't take me ages. Please review.**

**PaigeHowlett: I'm glad that you are enjoying the story. Hopefully you'll enjoy this too.**


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